Jack Cooks Thanksgiving Dinner
by Taleia
Summary: Thanksgiving dinner must be cooked. Jack undertakes the task. Need I say more? With SG1 assembled in his living room and Hammond on the way, flames, smoke, and disaster abound!
1. Thanksgiving Plans

When Jack cooks Thanksgiving dinner, everything that could go wrong, does!

Sidenote: I wrote this for my third nanowrimo project ( so if it's wordy, you know why!

Other sidenote: This takes place in my alterverse, where SG1 includes 2 teenagers, Aisha Odre and Robin Johnsonn, whom Jack and Sam share joint custody of.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Are you sure, sir?" Sam asked cautiously as she followed Jack up the stairs into the briefing room. Jack nodded confidently. "Of course I am sure. You did Thanksgiving last year. Fraiser has a new daughter on her hands. Daniel – well, would you trust Daniel with Thanksgiving dinner?"

"No," Sam admitted. She wasn't sure she entirely trusted Jack with it, either, but discreetly and wisely refrained from putting this point forth.

"I mean, come on, he's as likely to put the turkey in the oven, start translating some irrelevant alien text, and next thing you know the turkey will be burnt and Thanksgiving dinner ruined."

"I could do it," Sam volunteered, cringing. Cooking was not her forte; neither was entertaining. But as far as the team was concerned, she probably had the most experience with both.

To her relief, however, Jack dismissed her offer. "Your apartment is too small. Besides, both girls are staying with you all weekend, and it is not fair to give you them and the burden of feeding nine people, too."

"Ten people!" Sam raised her eyebrows. "Just who have you invited."

"You, the girls, Fraiser, Cassandra, Daniel, Teal'c, and General Hammond."

"Big crowd," Sam commented. She was feeling less and less confident about this plan; cooking for the team was one thing, for if all went wrong that possibly could (and she was starting to get used to creating a contingency plan for every possible scenario) they could order pizza – _were pizza places even open on Thanksgiving? _she wondered – and nobody would mind much. This was beginning to look like feeding most of the mountain.

_On the other hand_, she reasoned, this was not her problem. It was Jack's, and no matter how badly it flopped, it would not reflect on her.

It was a reassuring thought.

"Can I bring anything?" Sam asked helpfully. Jack waved his hand dismissively. "I've got it covered. Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, gravy, ham – "

"Ham?" Sam interjected. "Sir, ham is Christmas. This is Thanksgiving. Turkey Day."

"Okay, then turkey." Jack did not seem concerned. "How different can they be?"

Sam's uncertain feeling disapeared, to be replaced by definite knots.

It was going to be an interesting Thanksgiving, anyway.


	2. We Gather Together

"Girls, before we get there, there's something I want to talk about," Sam began, looking in her rearview mirror. Aisha and Robin obediently turned their attention to her. They even, she noted with pride, pulled the headphones from their ears instead of just turning the volume down. Score one for Sam.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and they were driving towards Jack's house, in time and maybe a little early, Sam judged, for their one o'clock dinner.

Before they arrived, however, she wanted to brief the girls for her own peace of mind.

"The colonel is being very gracious to invite us for Thanksgiving," Sam began, bolstered somewhat by the agreeable nods she received from the girls. "He's been very busy lately, well, he's always busy," she amended. "And I know he wants everything to be perfect for today. You know Fraiser and Hammond will also be joining us?" she asked suddenly.

The girls nodded. They were still trying to figure out where this was going.

Sam took a deep breath and decided to be frank. "I do not know if Colonel O'Neill has ever cooked Thanksgiving dinner before. Heck, I do not even know if he's ever cooked a turkey. My point is, if this meal doesn't measure up to Thanksgiving dinners you've had in the past, be kind. And do not say a word," she added on second thought.

The girls' worried looks evaporated and they nodded in unison. Sam breathed a sigh of relief at being understood.

"Here we are," she announced, pulling into Jack's driveway. Daniel's car, she noted, was already there.

They piled out and walked up the sidewalk, and Aisha rang the bell. Sam heard laughter from beyond the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

_So far, so good_, she figured.

Jack answered the doorbell, clad in an apron and holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

"Happy Thanksgiving, ladies. Come on in," he invited grandly, gesturing towards the hall and, Sam noticed wincing, slinging small bits of food onto the carpet.

"Sodas are in the rec room, along with everyone else," he told them over his shoulder. "Dinner is going to be a little late, but General Hammond called and he's stuck in traffic, so we'll just say we waited on him and it'll be fine."

_Late is okay_, Sam figured. _The best of cooks are late sometimes_.

They hung up their sweaters and coats and filed into the rec room, where Fraiser, Teal'c, and Daniel lounged.

"Happy Thanksgiving," the girls chorused, moving into the room and throwing themselves down on the floor.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Teal'c replied solemnly. "The story of the tradition of giving thanks on the third Thursday of november, while consuming turkey and other requisite dishes, is being retold for my benefit by Daniel Jackson and Dr. Fraiser."

"The Thanksgiving story?" Robin perked up. "Hey, this one I know!"

"Yeah, no fair telling him the one part of our traditions that we understand," Aisha chimed in.

Daniel took a sip of his diet coke. "Alright. Go for it."

"In sixteen hundred and thirty two, the pilgrims sailed the ocean blue," Robin began.

Sam and Daniel began laughing.

"What?" Robin asked, puzzled.

"That was Columbus," Daniel put in, laughing. "In sixteen hundred and thirty two, _Columbus_ sailed the ocean blue. The _Pilgrims_ sailed in 1620"

Robin rolled her eyes. "So shoot me. Did you know that?" she demanded of Fraiser. Janet laughed. "No, I did not."

"See?" Robin appealed. Chuckling, Daniel nodded. "Carry on," he encouraged.

"Well, the pilgrims were being persecuted in England, and they wanted to live in freedom, so they decided to come across the ocean and start a colony in the New World."

"New World?" Teal'c looked puzzled. "I do not believe your race had the technology to travel to new worlds in 1620."

Robin chewed her lip. "Um, actually, the 'New World' is what everybody called North America for a really long time."

"Oh." Teal'c's confusion cleared, and Robin plunged on. "Anyway, our race was even more primitive back then, and we did not have electricity or speedboats or planes – or spaceships," she added thoughtfully. "So the Pilgrims came across the Pacific ocean in a little wooden boat called the Mayflower.

"They sailed for almost six months, and finally they saw land in the distance! So they got off and began to build a settlement."

"They actually survived the crossing in a small wooden vessel?" Teal'c wondered. "Your race is most resilient."

"Thanks. Anyway, during the first winter they had so little food, they sometimes had only five kernels of corn to eat day! And by the time the first spring came, over half of the pilgrims had died."

"My turn," Aisha interjected. "Then they met an Indian named Squanto."

"Indian?" Teal'c brow furrowed. "How did a man from Asia come to be in North America."

Both girls looked at Daniel.

"Actually, that's another history lesson in itself," he began. Aisha looked at him. "Short answer," she prompted. "Today is Thanksgiving, not Columbus Day."

"Right." Daniel adjusted his glasses. "When Christopher Columbus, the man who discovered North America, landed here, he thought he had landed in India and he named the natives Indians. So today we have Indians from India and Native Americans we also call Indians."

Teal'c looked a little overwhelmed. "That is a very large mistake to make," he pointed out gravely.

"Yes," Daniel agreed, at a loss for any other response.

"Anyway," Aisha jumped in. "They met an Indian names Squanto. Squanto had lived with the English a long time ago, so he knew their language. Squanto taught them how to plant corn, and how to grow crops. And so when the summer ended, the Pilgrims knew they would have enough food to make it through the winter. Then they decided, to show their thankfulness to God, they would have a great feast and invite the Indians. And that's how we got Thanksgiving," Aisha ended.

Daniel nodded approvingly. "Well done."

"Hey, I helped," Robin put in.

"Both of you," Sam appeased.

"Where's Cassandra?" Robin asked, realizing for the first time that Cassy was not with them.

"She's outside with the dog," Janet told her. "It is nice out in the sun."

"Oh." Robin coughed, and Sam realized that the room had grown quiet.

"What is it?" she asked, worried. Daniel chewed his lip.

"Do you smell something… uh… smoky?" he asked as tactfully as possible. Sam sniffed the air. Sure enough, there was a definitely charred odor wafting from the kitchen.

"Uh, oh," she muttered.

"I guess somebody ought to go see if he needs help," Janet reasoned. Nobody volunteered.

"I'll go," Sam sighed. "I want ice for my coke, anyhow."

Conversation resumed as she left and headed for the kitchen.

"Sir?" she called out as she approached. There was no answer. "Colonel? Jack!" Sam was beginning to get worried. She walked into the kitchen and immediately ran over to the stove, where a pot was boiling over. Sam couldn't figure out which knob controlled which burner, so she finally switched them all off and breathed a sigh of relief as the white foam retreated.

"Sir?" she called again, uncertain of what to do. Lifting the lid from the pot, she peered inside.

_Potatoes? No telling_, she decided, poking at them with a fork. Whatever they were, they were done. _Overdone, probably_. She grabbed a hot mitt and moved the pot from the stove.

_They probably need to be drained_, she reasoned, and moved over to the sink. As she did, she glanced out the window and saw Jack outside, tossing a ball for Cassandra's terrier while Cassandra squealed in delight.

"So that's where he went," she sighed, half relieved, half angry. She set the put down and moved to the sliding glass doors.

"Colonel O'Neill!" she called out, opening the doors. Jack looked up. "Sam! What are you doing in the kitchen?" he demanded, jogging over.

"Saving your house from burning down," she joked, handing him the oven mitt. "Your potatoes boiled over."

"Potatoes?" Jack was puzzled. "I am not cooking potatoes."

"Oh." Sam had a funny feeling. "Well, whatever was in that pot, it is done. I drained it."

"Oh, the turnips. Thanks!" Jack reached for his apron and headed for the stove. "Thanks, but I've got it now. Go relax! Enjoy yourself!"

_Enjoy myself, maybe. Relax, definitely not,_ Sam thought grimly.

"What was it?" Daniel asked as she came into the room. Sans coke glass, she realized, but did not dare go back to retrieve it.

"Turnips boiled over," she shrugged. "He went outside to play with Cassandra."

"And left things on the stove?" Janet raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he needs a hand in the kitchen."

"He kicked me out," Sam warned, and Janet set her glass back down and sighed. "Men in the kitchen. Give them a spatula and they think they own the world."

"Send the girls," Daniel suggested leisurely. They scowled at him. "You might be able to get him to let you help him," he pointed out.

"Alright, alright. We'll go," Robin consented. "How did we get mixed up in this," Aisha wondered out loud.

"It might just work," Sam decided.


	3. A Martha Stewart Thanksgiving

"Jack?" Aisha and Robin trooped into the kitchen, bracing themselves. "Can we help you?"

"No!" Jack stood in the center of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand, fiddling with the knobs for the stove. "Well… maybe. I can't figure out which knob goes to which burner. And I do not remember what everything is supposed to be doing – boiling, simmering, heating."

Robin marched over and lifted a lid. "What is it?" she asked, staring down at a pan full of green mush.

"Fried collard greens."

Robin reacted with immediate disgust, and Aisha started laughing.

"Where does it say that's a traditional Christmas dish?" Robin asked.

Jack gestured towards the island. "There," he pointed out a magazine, dog-eared and pages marked, and Robin reached for it, but Aisha snatched it from her.

"Martha Stewart Living," she read, and Robin groaned. "Jack, you did not! The woman spent time in jail, for goodness sake. Does that say anything about her?"

"Hey, she's a good cook," Jack defended himself. He was preparing something near the sink, and Robin braced herself and looked.

"Mashed potatoes?" she asked hopefully, knowing that, if so, they were the oddest shaped potatoes she'd seen in her life.

"Let me guess," Aisha began. "Mashed turnips. 'Take a holiday classic and give it a unique twist.' That's so gross!"

"Out!" Jack pointed to the door, and Aisha departed, laughing so hard that Robin wanted to kill her.

"If you stay, you may not criticize my dinner," Jack threatened, and – remembering Sam's talk – Robin nodded grimly. "What shall I do?" she asked, tying on an apron.

Jack took one look around the kitchen and showed the first signs of panic. "Here – finish these," he decided, handing her the masher. "I am going to put the greens in the serving bowl."

"They'll get cold," Robin warned.

"You're right. Who wants to eat cold greens?" Jack reasoned.

_Who wants to eat hot greens_? Robin reasoned to herself. She did not say anything, but Jack turned on her anyway.

"Do not start," he warned.

Robin threw up her hands innocently. "I did not say anything!"

"No, but you were thinking it," Jack shot back.


	4. We Are So In Trouble

"We are in trouble," Aisha announced to those waiting in the rec room. "He is in trouble. He's cooking a 'traditional thanksgiving feast' right out of the pages of Martha Stewart Living."

The women groaned.

"It can't be that bad," Daniel reasoned. "What's he fixing?"

"Mashed turnips and fried collard greens," Aisha told him, and Daniel's cheer faded slightly.

"Hammond is very southern. Maybe he'll like it," He suggested hopefully.

The other three shot him dark looks.

"I'll go see what I can do," he volunteered.


	5. What Do You Know About Turkey?

"_Help_," Robin mouthed when he entered the kitchen.

"Jack, can I help you?" Daniel offered politely.

"Um…" Jack thought rapidly. "Yes. Do you know anything about turkey?"

Daniel stared at him, and finally realizing that the question was borne of desperation, not jest, answered slowly. "Well, um, not much. What do you need?"

Jack opened the oven door, displaying an odd looking bird. "How do you tell when it is done in the middle?" he wondered.

Daniel scratched his nose. "I think there's some kind of formula – so many minutes per pound of turkey."

"What is it?" Jack asked eagerly.

Daniel shrugged. "Sam or Janet might know," he offered, but Jack shook his head. "Never. Any other ideas?"

"I'll get on the web and find out," Robin volunteered. She headed off to the study.

"Good idea," Jack hollered after her. "Anything else?" Daniel asked, surveying the kitchen. He was no expert, but it did not look to him like dinner was anywhere near ready.

"Biscuits. I need biscuits," Jack said. He pointed to the refrigerator. "There are tubes of them in there."

Daniel opened the door and sprang back as everything, it seemed, broke loose and tumbled out onto the floor.

Jack surveyed the mess with an astounded look. "What did you do?" he asked incredulously.

Daniel threw up his hands. "I didn't do anything! Ick," he added, stepping back as a potent smell met his nose. "What is that?"

Jack pushed things around with his foot. "Black bean garlic sauce," he announced, picking a bottle with a broken cap up and reading the label.

"What in the world do you have that for?" Daniel asked, crying from the smell.

"I have no idea," Jack admitted, tossing it in the trash. "Maybe the girls put it there."

That was certainly possible, Daniel reasoned. The girls had been known to do weirder things.

Robin came back into the room. "Fifteen minutes per pound," she announced. Peering into the oven, she asked skeptically, "When did you put it in?"

"An hour ago," Jack told her hopefully. Robin turned to him suspiciously. "How big is it?" she asked.

"I don't know," Jack admitted. He leaned over into the trash can and began fishing around for the wrapper. It was then Robin noticed the mess.

"Ye gods! What did you do?" she exclaimed. Jack growled at Daniel. "He did it."

"I opened the door and everything fell out," Daniel defended.

"The shelf broke," Robin observed, picking up the broken piece out of the mess. "Alright. Daniel, you pick everything up and wipe it off. I'll go get a mop. What is that smell?" she asked as Jack in his rummaging bumped the broken can.

"Black bean garlic sauce," Jack told her. "DO you know anything about that?"

Robin shook her head, her eyes watering up. "No. Wait! Yes, it's Aisha's. She uses it to cook thai food."

"I knew that was a dangerous hobby," Jack mumbled.

Daniel had just picked up all the containers when Jack exclaimed "Ah hah!" and held up the turkey wrapper with a triumphant air. "It's twenty pounds!" he announced.

Robin did some quick math in her head and swallowed. "It won't be ready for another four hours," she told Jack as tactfully as possible.

Jack stared at her in horror.

"I am sunk," he moaned. Then, seizing on an idea, he asked, "I don't suppose I could turn the oven on really, really high and at least cook enough of the outside to serve?"

Robin was doubtful, but Daniel was hopeful. "It's worth a shot," he figured.

Jack spun the temperature dial on the oven and closed the door.

"Let's see if that works," he prayed.

The phone rang and Robin answered it. "Hello? Oh, hi, General Hammond. Um, no, we haven't eaten yet. No, no," she hastily added. "Of course we'll wait for you! How could we not wait for you?

"No, nobody's starving," she reassured him. Jack listened to the conversation and promised himself that he's reward her richly. "We'll wait till you get here. Take your time. Drive safely. Bye."

Robin hung up the phone and turned around. "He's stuck in traffic," she told Jack.

"Alright, folks, let's move!" Jack turned to the stove. "Daniel, do biscuits. Robin, help me fix the side dishes. We'll wait till the general gets here and then we'll carve the bird."

"Okay." Daniel opened the fridge – cautiously, this time. "Pillsbury?" he called over his shoulder, laughing. "You're doing a full thanksgiving feast and you're serving pillsbury pop and serve?"

Jack glared. "Don't push it, Danny boy."

Daniel got busy smashing biscuit cans against the counter.


	6. Smoke and Mirrors, Sans Mirrors

Half an hour later, things were looking up in Robin's opinion.

"That's great, sir. No, we're sure. Okay, see you then." She hung up the phone. "Jack! Hammond is ten minutes away. I've got the side dishes on the stove heating up, and Daniel's biscuits are in the oven. I'm going upstairs to change!"

"Okay!" Jack was setting the table, and Daniel had retreated back to the rec room.

Robin headed up the stairs and into the room she and Aisha shared in Jack's house. She rummaged through the drawers and finally settled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, ruefully pulling off the sweater she'd been wearing all day. She'd picked it out last week, envisioning sitting down to a perfect dinner in it, but it was now covered in mashed turnips and bits of collard green.

_The dinner isn't looking too good, either,_ she sighed.

Just then every smoke alarm in the house went off.

Robin battled her way back to the kitchen, holding her hands over her ears.

"What's going on?" Sam yelled, coming up from the rec room with her hands over her ears, too.

"I don't know!" Robin yelled. "Jack! What's going on!"

"The biscuits!" Jack was standing on a chair punching at the smoke alarm with a broom handle. The strategy did not seem to be working. "They're smoking!"

Robin opened the oven door and coughed as billows of smoke poured forth. She grabbed an oven mitt, reached inside for the pan, and pulled it out, turning away. The smoke alarm continued to blare. Robin headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Jack yelled. Robin opened the sliding glass doors.

"I'm taking them outside – the smoke won't go away and the alarm won't stop until I do," she explained.

"We can't save them?" Jack asked hopefully.

Robin looked at the pan of charred hockey pucks she was holding. "No."

She shut the door behind her, shivering in the sudden cold, and walked off the porch and set the pan on the ground. She'd move them later, before anyone went outside.

Cassandra and Max, her terrier, bounded up. "What's that?" Cassandra asked, eyeing the pan.

"A failed pan of biscuits," Robin told her sadly. Max sniffed them, looked up, and snatched one off the pan.

"Max!" Cassandra looked horrified. "Can he do that, Robin?"

Robin was actually a little amazed. "I don't see why he'd want to. But, sure, I don't see why not."

Max dropped the biscuit at her feet. Robin sighed, picked it up, and chucked it into the woods.

Max shot off like he'd been shot.

"Where's he going?" Robin asked, puzzled.

"Fetch is his favorite game," Cassandra explained simply.

Robin stood, amazed, as Max came back and dropped the biscuit at her feet. It was a little slobbered on, but didn't even bear any teeth marks.

"Amazing," Robin observed, then shivered. "I'm going back in."

"Is dinner almost ready?" Cassandra asked.

Robin laughed. "I hope so. Only time will tell."

The smoke alarm had stopped when she came back in.

"I think I messed them up," Jack told her, and Robin looked into the pots and pans on the stove. "They do look a little overcooked," she admitted. "But we could probably make them pass."

"They'll have to," Jack decided, and began spooning them into serving dishes.

The doorbell rang, and Jack and Robin looked at the door, then at each other.

"The moment of truth. See if your bird is edible," Robin suggested, and walked towards the door. Jack opened the door and hollered.

"What the – ah!" Robin stared at the turkey, in flames. "Shut the door!" she yelled, realizing that the open oven door was only feeding the flames.

"What do I do?" Jack asked, and Robin was too stunned at think. The doorbell rang again.

"Fend him off for five minutes. I'll scrape off the burned bits," Jack decided. "Go!"

Robin sprinted for the door and yanked it open. General Hammond stood there, looking a little put out at having been made to wait in the cold.

"General Hammond! Uh, come on in. Dinner is almost ready. Jack's taking the turkey from the oven right now," she told him, remaining as close to the truth as possible.

Hammond stepped inside and opened his mouth to say something.

At that moment, every fire alarm in the house went off. Robin clapped her hands over her ears, as did Hammond, and turned to look towards the kitchen.

Odd noises were coming from the kitchen. First Jack's voice, in an indiscernable yelling, and then Daniel's voice, high pitched, screaming "Put it out! Out!" and then Sam's voice. Above the din, Robin heard the sliding glass door open and shut, and a moment later the alarm quit mid wail.

Robin took her hands down, feeling faint, and turned to Hammond. Then she realized she could think of nothing to say.

Jack poked his head into the hallway, his apron blackened.

"General Hammond!" he greeted cheerily. "Dinner is almost ready. What do you like on your pizza?"


	7. Thankful

Jack stretched out on his recliner and reached for a slice of pizza. "I like pizza," he reasoned, basking in the glorious taste of cheese, crust, and sauce. "It's simple. It's easy. You pick up the phone, call in your order, and someone brings it to your house. Why doesn't someone invent a delivery service for Thanksgiving?" he wondered.

"They did," Sam informed him. "People deliver the dinner to your door and you unpack it."

"We're doing that next year," Hammond decided with conviction. His clothes still reeked of smoke. After Jack and Daniel had thrown the turkey out the back door, it had caught the lawn on fire. Nobody had noticed – everybody having gone to greet Hammond – until the neighbor called the fire department and the truck arrived outside. After they had helped put the fire out, Hammond and Jack buried the turkey while Sam ordered the pizza.

Robin stared down sadly at her second set of ruined clothes that day. "I think you owe me a sweater, Jack," she suggested hopefully.

Aisha was sprawled near the fireplace. "By the way, Jack," she began cautiously. "When Sam and I put the table away, we found corn kernels set on each plate. What were you doing with dried corn?"

Jack sighed, his face turning red, but the team turned to him with interest. "Oh, alright," he finally grumbled. "I read about a tradition this family had. They took five kernels of corn –"

"Are these kernels symbolic of the meager rations of the first pilgrims?" Teal'c wondered.

Jack looked surprised. "Actually, yes. And everybody took turns dropping their corn into a basket and naming five things they were grateful for."

Janet smiled. "That's a great idea. I think we can still make that work, even with pizza."

Aisha and Robin scrambled to retrieve the basket and corn, and Aisha passed out the kernels while Robin plunked the basket down on the coffee table. Everyone gathered near.

"You first, Sir," Sam prompted. Jack lifted up one kernel of corn. "I'm thankful for pizza," he stated heartily, letting it fall into the basket with a plunk.

"Amen," Hammond called out.

"Your turn, General," Jack added, passing him the basket.

"I'm grateful for the volunteer fire department," Hammond rebounded fervently. The girls laughed.

"I'm grateful for my new daughter," Janet said, looking lovingly at Cassy. Cassy grinned and dropped her kernel in. "My new mom!" she exclaimed.

Sam thought for a moment. "The day off," she decided, passing it on to Daniel, who dropped in his without hesitation. "The written word."

Jack laughed. Teal'c took the basket thoughtfully. "Freedom," he finally decided.

Aisha took it. "The stargate," she exclaimed. Robin scowled. "You took mine. Um, the mountain," she decided.

"My turn again? Okay, turkey," Jack decided. "The normal kind."

"Grandchildren," Hammond shared.

"Friends," Janet put in.

"Family!" Cassy decided, looking around them lovingly.

Sam smiled. "Stargazing."

"The troops who are fighting overseas," Daniel put in with feeling. Nods all around.

"Safety," Teal'c added.

"Diet coke," Aisha decided.

"Hey, I can add to that!" Sam decided, leaning over to drop her kernel in out of turn. "Coffee!"

"I was going to say that!" Daniel protested. Sam grinned. "Tough."

"Cars," Robin decided. "Especially Jeeps."

"Point taken." Jack rolled his eyes. "Cell phones."

Hammond laughed. "'Off' buttons," he decided.

"Modern medicine," Janet put in.

"Max." Cassy snuggled him closer.

Sam had to think. "Alarm clocks," she decided finally.

"That spare room in the mountain where I crash after an all-nighter," Daniel decided.

"The human race," Teal'c decided."

"Wow, that sounds important," Aisha observed. "Okay. I'm glad for our rooms," she began, dropping in one kernel. "The one at Jack's house, the one at Sam's house," she continued, dropping in one kernel for each. "I'm out."

"Hey, I get the other two," Robin objected, dropping her two in, as well. "The one at Daniel's house, the one at the mountain."

"Is that fair?" Jack wondered as the basket came to him again. "Hmm. The Air Force."

"Democracy," Hammond said.

"Oh, my. Well, I am grateful for make-up," Janet finally said. "And lipstick. There! I'm out, too."

"Swings!" Cassy put in.

"Glasses," Daniel reflected.

"I am most thankful for your chocolate. And for marshmallows," Teal'c reflected. The girls burst out laughing.

"Your turn, Robin," Jack reminded her. Robin tossed her kernel in the basket. "Discmans!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"Hah!" Jack added his last kernel to the basket. "Headphones! I'm out."

"Volume control, too," Sam interjected. "So am I."

"Tylenol," Hammond observed wryly.

"I'm glad I'm alive," Cassy said.

"Am I the last one left? Wow," Daniel thought out loud. He held the kernel thoughtfully, then let it slide slowly between his fingers. "I am eternally grateful to fate," he declared simply. "The fate that brought us all together."

Heads around the room nodded.

"You know what else I'm thankful for?" Jack added, yawning and stretching out. "The fact that tomorrow is black Friday - I can buy grass seed at half price…"


End file.
